


Darkness I Became

by mirzimonstein



Category: Everlark - Fandom, Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, Needles, Tumblr: promptsinpanem, i'm so sorry for this tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 02:38:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5074168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirzimonstein/pseuds/mirzimonstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Revenge. I will not fail to remember this to Snow when I find him. I won’t let him die. I won’t let him live. I won’t let him feel anything but pain, for what he did to you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness I Became

**Author's Note:**

> Fic I wrote for the Final Round of or beloved PiP.  
> Day 5 "The language of flowers": Marigold and Peach blossom - Cruelty and Captivity.
> 
> Again, Major character death, depictions of violence and heavy angst.  
> Thanks to all those who liked and rebbloged! <3

My name is Katniss Everdeen.

  
  


I feel everything.

  
  


They push me into my cell, my head hits hard floor. I feel everything, though it's not  _ me _ they're punishing.

  
  


I try to focus my eyes, but my brain is still readjusting inside of my skull when a hard boot meets my stomach. The pain cripples inside of me, it invalidates me, one and over and over again. I feel a rib cracking, and then another, with each thrust of the boot, the blood pumping, the panic, the fear that overcomes me.  _ I feel everything _ . I feel my right lung collapsing, I feel my bile make it's way up until it's out of my mouth and all over the floor and my face.

  
  


Insults and laughter are the only thing I can hear. They call me  _ rat _ and  “ _ big mouthed piece of shit” _ . I can't really make sense of it right now, and I don't want to. I'm going to die, what's going to be my last thought?

  
  


A big man in a white suit takes me by my shirt and rises my body to his eye level, dark eyes meeting mine with a fury I have only found in mutt's eyes before.  He says something and I bet it's very offensive, but I'm not alive enough to care. So I just silently take the punch in the face he proceeds to give me. I don't want to talk. I feel I have said enough for one day though I'm not sure where that feeling comes from, I just want to die now.  When I'm on the floor his fist meets my face again and again and again like clockwork. Three times. I can't see. Four times. I can't hear. Five times. I can't think. I can't remember. I don't know who I am. Too far gone. And I want him to keep going. I want him to finish me, to just finish me. Just hit me once again and get it over with, I'm so close. I'm right there. Just one more. Please. I can't stand this torture anymore, I can't, I can't anymore, I can't... Hit me again, Hit me,  _ Hit me _ !

  
  


He doesn't.

  
  


Instead he takes me by my prosthetic leg –  _ wait, my... my what? _ –  and drags me out of the cell, the blood that drips from my head makes a track behind me, so I never forget where I come from. I close my eyes tight, I'm so scared, I don't want to see what's next for me, I don't want to look at all the needles and the images, the fire, the screams and all the blood, oh fuck,  _ so much blood _ . I don't want to open my eyes, God, I don't want to open them!. I want to keep them closed forever, for the horrors inside my head are always better than the ones I am actually living. But when we stop, I do open them. And I regret it instantly. 

  
  


Johanna.

  
  


She looks at me through the window and I see her fists hitting the glass with such frantic panic I almost want to stand up and hug her, comfort her, that's what I'm best at. Tell her it's going to be fine, even though I know it won't. It never is. So I just manage to throw a smile her way because something tells me she's gonna make it, and the thought makes me happy, if such a thing it's possible. I did what I had to do and I am proud of it, that's what I think as every inch of my body and mind hurts. She keeps screaming and crying like the one dying is her. I wish my smile could reach her, I wish I could tel her I'm so tired, so, so tired that this is probably for the best. I'm not strong enough. I never was. I was just a liability, honestly, always the one who had to be carried. Useless. Always. I'm so tired.

  
  


Johanna is the last thing I see and, somehow, it makes me glad to see a friendly face before the white boot connects with my face and my neck snaps once and for all. 

  
  


_ Done. _

  
  


I wake up screaming like I have never screamed before, so hard my vocal chords feel like they're bleeding. Where am I? What is this grey place? My head is fuzzy but there are no bruises on my body. Didn't I just die? Was it all just a dream? I see faces gathering up around me, blond hair and tiny hands, and brown hands, and dark hair, and grey clothes and nothing makes sense, this is not where I was just five seconds ago. Where is Johanna?

  
  


“Johanna is in the Capitol, Katniss, what are you talking about?” I hear someone clarify as if they could read my mind

  
  


Johanna is in the Capitol. She's in the Capitol. Then why did I just see her? No, Johanna is here, she saw me dying, she was screaming and crying and I saw her, I swear I saw her. I need to find her, I need everyone to get off me and find Johanna. So I push my way out of the room, my eyes are not used to the light yet so I don't know where I'm going, I just know I need to run away. I need to find her. I need her to tell me I'm alive. I need her. But where the hell is she??.

  
  


I hear someone following me and they're catching up to me, so I just run and run, turning right and left in this god damned labyrith I find myself in. Johanna is the only thing I think about.

  
  


“ _ Johanna is in the Capitol” _ I hear in my head again

  
  


Johanna.

  
  


In the Capitol.

  
  


_ Wait. _

  
  


I stop running. I stop breathing. I just stop.

  
  


Words I heard earlier come speeding to my head

  
  


“ _ You'll be dead by morning!” _ No  “  _ I feel have said enough for one day...” _ This can't be.  “ _ Dead by morning!” “... I just wanna die now” “They're coming Katniss” _ He warned me  “ _ I did what I had to do and I am proud of it...” _

  
  


Fuck. No.

  
  


Could it be?

  
  


I fall to my knees. Could it be? Was I seeing... him?

  
  


But... But I  _ died _ , I did, I felt myself dying, I felt the beating, I felt the pain, the fear, I felt it! I am not crazy, I am not insane I swear, Oh my god, I swear. What if... What if it was...? No, no, no, no. Just a dream... just...  _ just a dream... _

  
  


My chest is trying to catch up from all the running, but my throat is closing more and more. This can't be happening. A dream. It was just a dream. A fucking dream. A nightmare. Just that. Nothing. More. Because it can't be. I don't believe it. I won't. I. Can't. Breathe. Johanna...  _ Where? _

  
  


I feel a sharp pain in my right arm and I don't even make the effort to fight the numbness that floods me. I just say his name with what's left of air in my lungs. 

  
  


_ Peeta. Come back to me. _

  
  


\---

  
  


I don't know how long I was away, but Haymitch's face is the first one I see when I wake up. He's sitting on a chair right next to my bed, concern all over his eyes. I stare at him for a while; He's anxious and something tells me it has nothing to do with his lack of alcohol. This is different.

  
  


“What?” I finally say and he jumps a little, he didn't notice I was awake “What is it?” I ask, my voice a little husky from all the screaming I did before

  
  


His face instantly changes, but I can see it's just a mask “Well, hello sweetheart, I thought--”

  
  


“Save it,” I interrupt “what's going on?” His face darkens

  
  


He sighs “The power in the Capitol went off, so our dearest President Coin gave her approval” His  hands are slightly shaking

  
  


“For what?” I'm growing impatient

  
  


“For a rescue mission.” I freeze “They went to get him. Them.” He continues “They went to get the Victors out of the Capitol.” My jaw drops

  
  


“What?” I say trying to stand up “I need to go with them, I need to--”

  
  


“Woah, wait, wait, I'm gonna have to stop your train right there, dear” He covers me with the white sheet again “You cant just jump out of your hospital bed in a gown to take the Capitol by storm?” He laughs, I cover my face with my shaking hands, impotent. He's right, and I hate it when he is “Plus, they're already on their way, they left like 20 minutes ago”

  
  


“ _ They _ ?” I ask “Who's  _ them _ ?” Fuck no.

  
  


“A group of 6. Volunteer only.” Then he stares directly into my eyes “Guess who was the first one to sign up”

  
  


Oh I know.

  
  


The one who put the needle in my arm before.

  
  


The one who heard my last words right before I collapsed.

  
  


“Gale”

  
  


\---

  
  


I don't feel well. I don't feel ready. Something's gonna go wrong.

  
  


I have thrown up three times today. Something's gonna go wrong.

  
  


My insides are twisting and my breath comes in erratic waves. The sigh of Finnick doing and undoing the knot of that fucking rope is not helping at all. I want to take it away from him. I want him to stay still, to be quiet, to not move a muscle because today might be the day I go back to life, or the day I lose everything.

  
  


I hear footsteps outside our door and I feel like I might throw up again, but I swallow hard. It was just a dream. It was just a nightmare. Stay calm.

  
  


Haymitch walks in. He literally walks in. He takes one, two, three steps inside of the room before filling his lungs with air. “They're back” He mutters, but his eyes still don't meet ours

  
  


“Can we see them?” Finnick asks, jumping from his bed. Haymitch nods.

  
  


Something's wrong.

  
  


“Are they okay?” Finnick's voices shakes “Is Annie--”

  
  


“Go, Finnick” Haymitch says, raising his eyes to meet his “Pollux's outside, he's gonna escort you to where she is” 

  
  


I exhale loudly in relief, feeling like every worry I have ever had leaves my body in just a second.

  
  


We both take a few nervous steps forward, in direction to the door, but when I'm passing right next to him, Haymitch holds my arm softly. “Finnick” He says “Go”

  
  


_ Oh no. _

  
  


I breathe in again, and my body tenses beyond measure at his words. I'm going to faint.

  
  


My knees threaten to fail me again. I know what this means and, by the look in his eyes, so does Finn.

  
  


“I w-want Katniss to go with me” He whispers, voice cracking and hands shaking “She... she has to see--”

  
  


“ Finnick!” Haymitch snaps making Finnick jump a little “I can't do this with both of you here, don't you see?” His bloodshot eyes give everything away. This can't be happening, Jesus Christ, this can't be true. I knew something was wrong, I felt it inside of me, I felt it die on my heart. This is not happening  _ please no please please please... _

  
  


Finnick's eyes meet mine once again and I see that a tear already rolled from his left eye. There is no pity on his face, there's no half-assed emotions. He knows what's going to happen so I believe him when he mutters that he's sorry right before leaving.

  
  


I am alone with Haymitch now and I dont know what to do with myself. My whole body is shaking like a leave, my entire nervous system is failing me. I knew it. I felt it. And now it's happening.

  
  


Silence.

  
  


Haymitch lets go of my arm slowly as if it's going to breake and I just cant take it anymore.

  
  


“Just say it” I whisper and I see him shake his head out of the corner of my eye

  
  


“I can't” He answers, his voice quivers for the first time

  
  


Dead.

  
  


I close my eyes slowly and breathe deep a couple of times, allowing the tensions to leave my body once and for all. 

  
  


Dead.

  
  


I want to be free of this eternal anguish I seem to be living in. I want to float eternally in an ocean of green waters. I want to stop. I want to stop everything.

  
  


He's dead. And I am too.

  
  


I open my eyes. “Did they bring his...” But I stop myself. I can't say it either.

  
  


“Yeah”

  
  


I nod, slowly.

  
  


“Then take me to him”

  
  


\---

  
  


The walk there seems eternal, like time just chose to go twice as slow just for me to savour this moment.

  
  


Everyone knows. They all give me this looks when I walk past them. Like I'm widow or a cripple. Well, to some of them I am actually a widow, but they don't know shit. It's so much worse than that.

  
  


I won't give them the satisfaction of my tears, I won't let them see my flesh burning, I refuse to scream in front of this rats, they don't deserve to see me grieve, they don't know what I have lost and they never will. I will keep this away from them if it kills me, and it probably will.

  
  


In reality I feel like a castle made of sand being blowed off by the wind. My fortress is high but it's flying away. With every step that I take I leave something behind. Something I won't ever get back. It hurts like hell.

  
  


It's then when I see Johanna, and the sight of her almost manages to break me. She looks the exact same way I saw her in my dream. The mere thought of it makes my blood go cold inside of my veins.

  
  


She stares right back at me, her face is pale and devoid of all emotion. She doesn't look angry nor sad, just tired. I walk towards her resoluted to get some answers, I don't believe in coincidences anymore.

  
  


“Did you see it happen?” I ask firmly. Her jaw tenses and her eyes go wider, but she does not say anything “I had a dream and you were there” I blurt, feeling the questioning eyes all around me, examining my every word “You saw it happen”

  
  


“Yes” She sighs, a tear falling from her left eye. I nod.

  
  


“Was it--”

  
  


“Yes” She interrupts “Yes, Katniss. Yes to everything.” She pauses “Now fuck off.”

  
  


I understand.

  
  


I don't need to know anymore, I can see it in her eyes. It wasn't a dream.

  
  


I take another deep breath, my resolution threatening to fail me, and signal for Haymitch to take me to my destiny once and for all.

  
  


We stop in front of a grey door that looks just like any other here in 13. I turn to Haymitch, who looks like he has never ever needed a drink more than he does right now.

  
  


“Get me half an hour alone with him” I order him “I know they're gonna want to tape it, I know they have wires all over the room, so I'm asking you to get me 30 solid minutes with him... completely alone.” Tears are at the bay of my eyes now, but I don't betray any other emotion with the rest of my face. I need to hang on for just a while longer. Stay strong.

  
  


“I don't think that's gonna be possible, Katniss, they want—” But I'm boiling already

  
  


“JUST DO IT!” I shove him “I AM NOT...asking” I continue, fighting the flood of rottens that's emerging for the deepness of my heart “Do it, Haymitch, or I swear to God I will fucking kill you whenever I get the chance” I continue, gathering myself. He nods.

  
  


This is all his fucking fault. He owes me at least this. This is his fucking fault. Fucking Haymitch.

  
  


He goes to talk to the whole crew that's behind the one-way glass, and when he comes back, his eyes look twice as tired as before.

  
  


“20 minutes.” He informs me “No microphone, but the camera stays” I flinch my eyes, ready to fuck something up “I convinced them to let me be the only one to check everything up. So I'm going to be the only one behind that glass and I won't peek, I... I give you my word”

  
  


“Your word” I spit and I know it pressed the dagger even deeper “But if I have no other choice...”

  
  


“Fair enough” He adds “but, Katniss” He touches my arm “Just don't do anything stupid”

  
  


I almost laugh in his face “Oh, Haymitch. Something like what? Like trying to kill myself somehow? I can't do that. I can't die.” and then I look at the door “I'm already dead.”

  
  


He turns on his heel to take his place behind the window, but right before he disappears from my sight I feel the strong need to tell him something I have been keeping inside for way too long.

  
  


“Haymitch” He freezes. Everyone is silent. I gather all the rage that’s been boiling inside of me to say what I have to say.

  
  


“Yes?” He turns back and meets my eyes. He looks so sad, old and tired, but I couldn’t care less.

  
  


“I want you to know that, of all people here, you are the one I blame the most”

  
  


Silence.

  
  


“I know”

  
  


And we resume our previous actions, as if nothing was just said.

  
  
  


I don't know how I manage to take the first step, but once I am inside I can feel that I'm not ready.

  
  


The door closes behind me and I let out the scream I have been holding. I scream as strongly and as loudly and my body lets me. I'm not ready.

  
  


Take me out of here, I can't do it, I can't see him, I can't breathe. I'm not ready and I will never be. I'm just 17.

  
  


No, no, but I have 20 minutes, I remind myself, and I have to say goodbye or I will never forgive myself. I have to say my sorrys too.

  
  


Don't do anything stupid, Haymitch told me, but as I take a nervous look to the room I notice there's nothing in it. Nothing I could harm myself with.

  
  


Nothing except him.

  
  


On top of a metallic table.

  
  


Covered in a white sheet.

  
  


I'm shaking so much.

  
  


I cover my face with both hands as I feel the attack coming to me again. I don't know if it's panic or anxiety or stress or just madness. Maybe it's all of them. I just know it feels like I'm gonna throw up everything I have ever eaten in my life, all at once.

  
  


I hold on to the walls of the room, still unable to take one single step towards the... the...

  
  


the body...

  
  


the body of Peeta.

  
  


Peeta's body.

  
  


Dead.

  
  


I take a deep breath and try to steady myself, to stop the tears. I am here for a reason, but I'm beginning to question it now. Why am I here, exactly? Why can't a just let it go?

  
  


Because he wouldn't let me go, and I owe him so much. I can't just leave him alone in the coldness, the darkness; I already denied him so much while he was with me, I cant just turn my back on him, I can't just let him be buried without crying for him, without telling him just once... that I am never ever going to be the same. That he changed me. That he ruined me.

  
  


My dear boy with the bread. I will avenge you.

  
  


I press my feet hard to the ground and let go of the wall, finding my own balance.

  
  


I take one step.  _ I remember the bread. _

  
  


Another step. _ I remember the pearl. _

  
  


Another step.  _ I remember the beach. _

  
  


Fourth step.  _ I remember your lips, Peeta. I remember you. _

  
  


“ _ I do. I need you”  _ I said before being bold enough to kiss him. And he didn't quite believe me. I wish he would have.

  
  


I find a grip in the sides of the table, right in front of him. I have to actually do the gesture of uncovering him like he's new furniture, like he's nothing more than a fucking table set for dinner. Peeta is here, I tell myself, he's so close and yet so, so far. 

  
  


This is not how I imagined our reunion to be.

  
  


I am not ready.

  
  


I grab the sides of the table and grip them hard, my knuckles turning white with the pressure. I'm going to faint. I'm only 17 and I have seen so much death, but this one hurts the most. I never wanted any of this.

  
  


Take me back to the woods. Take me far away from all this pain for my chest can't contain it, my brain is not mature enough, I can't process it. He was only 17. My Peeta was only 17 when he was taken away from me a beaten up to death. So young. We were so young.

  
  


My knees are shaking, suddenly the weight of my body seems all too much. The weight of my guilt.

  
  


But I have to do it, I've come this far. He deserves me to look at him... if just to see his state when he died.

  
  


His  _ state _ . Which is my fault.

  
  


It's me he was trying to save.

  
  


I will never forgive myself for that, either.

  
  


Another deep breath and my hand lets go of the table, slowly and shakily reaching out for the sheet. I grab it tight but it takes me several seconds to gather the courage to actually pull from it. I count to five and then I just do it.

  
  


When I seem him a loud sob drowns in my lips and all the air leaves me for what seems like hours. What have they done, oh my God, _ what have they done to you?! _ My hands touch his face and his hair and can’t believe what they feel, I can't believe what I see, this cruelty is not understandable. So many bruises oh my god, so many cuts. His face is as thin as I saw it the propo, but now it hurts so, so much more. I cover my open mouth with both my hands. I can't believe this is the same person that held me in his arms to comfort me, to make me feel safe.

  
  


I breathe in, and when I breathe out what comes out of my mouth is a loud scream that I don't even bother trying to hold back.

  
  


And then I say his name. “ _ Peeta! _ ”  like I'm trying to wake him, I scream his name like he's going to hear me, like he's right here with me and then when I touch his cold, cold hand I want him so bad to touch me back, oh my  _ god _ , I crave his warmness so much I never thought it could be possible.

  
  


I close my eyes and sink my face into his chest, where his heart used to beat in my ear in all of those nights in the train. But I don't feel it move now, so I just sob into it, filling his shirt with the fluids that fall from my swollen face. I grab his shirt and press it in my hands as I weep and weep into his body. That's all I can't do now. Cry, shake and scream.

  
  


“I'm s-so sorry!” I yell, drowning in this sea of pain “Peeta, P-peeta, come back, please... ” I beg, now hugging his neck and pressing him to me. He's so cold “I c-can't... you have to... I'm n-not strong enough...”

  
  


I have never hated myself more than I do now. I'm such a fucking mess.

  
  


I don't even try to steady my hands or to make myself look any less pathetic than I am. I don't clean my face, my drool, my tears shall remain where they are because they are there for him and he deserves them. My companion. My baker boy. They took him from my hands and beat him lifeless. They starved him, they tortured him and they killed him in  _ my _ name. The one thing I couldn't live without besides my blood relatives, the one thing that crept up so hard inside of me that I can feel his loss invalidating me slowly from the inside out. And I curse myself for letting him in so strongly, for letting him take my heart so fiercely that he could shatter it to pieces without mercy.

  
  


The realization hits me like a hard slap in the face: I am her. I am my Mother. This is what it feels like... to die while you're still alive, I see. This it what it feels like.

  
  


“ T-tell me this is a lie, Peeta, tell me... t-tell me s-something, Peeta, just...” I look at him closely again “You died on me once before, r-rememeber?” I'm fucking insane. I'm fucking out of my mind, but I need to tell him, he needs to hear me! he needs to  _ wake up right now _ , because now that I am here, I realise I can't possibly come to peace with it, I just can't. He must be alive. He has to wake up and hug me, he can't leave me! I cant believe I let this happen to him “I thought I l-lost you, Peeta... and I didn't... and... I just need you... to do it again” my fingers caress his cheeks “come back to me, Peeta, y-you said always... ALWAYS!” 

  
  


“ _Would you stay with me?”_

  
  


“ _Yeah, Always”_

  
  


“Always...” I repeat as my hand look for his hand again

  
  


I breathe deeply, holding his fingers in mine and kissing his reddened knuckles “Will you ever forgive me?” I ask in a whisper “for leaving you to rot, will you ever forgive me, Peeta? For leaving you... behind?” But he does not reply “I won't forgive me, though. I could never.”

  
  


I could never forgive myself, or Haymitch, or Snow.

  
  


_ Snow. _

  
  


I think of his name and the anger overcomes me, what was tainted with blue inside of me becomes fire red and black. Hate. The sadness all of it turns into anger, I feel it change, like clockwork.  _ He did this _ . He took you and tore you apart, Peeta, you were only 17 and he did this to you.

  
  


I breathe heavily. “ _ Snow. _ ”

  
  


I touch his shirt again now, and I lift it. I want to see everything. I want this image to be tattoed inside of my eyes, I want it to haunt me for the rest of my life, in my worst nightmares, I want it to feed me with the rage I need to keep on going. I don't care about the fucking revolution, I say it without remorse: I don't fucking care.

  
  


Revenge.

  
  


I will not fail to remember this to Snow when I find him. He will know all of this, he will understand that he woke in me a whole new kind of anger that it's even new to myself. He will see my face as I rip his eyeballs with my bare hands  _ oh _ so slowly that he will beg me to just kill him. But I won't let him die. I won't let him live. I won't let him feel anything but pain, for what he did to you, Peeta. For you. Even if it's not what you would have wanted from me, even if you're going to hate me for becoming something so monstrous that it will make the cruelest of your torturers shiver in fear. I have no other reason but this new found rage and forgive me for what I am going to do, but if I don't find comfort in this, then there’s no way I will be able to carry on.

  
  


I feel the broken ribs under my fingers as I inspect his bare chest. One, two on one side, three on the other. Five broken ribs; I shall remember it. I also saw it in my nightmare.

  
  


Nightmare. No, it was a vision. It was the way this world had to connect me to him, to see the end through his eyes. Now I know what death feels like, so I don't fear it no more.

  
  


I put his shirt down slowly, as if I'm going to hurt him, and then I stare at him again.

  
  


I breathe in and out.

  
  


With a shaking hand, I take three fingers from my right hand, kiss them slowly, pouring into them everything I could never say to him, leaving in them the future I knew we could have had together, our breakfasts, our fights, our toasted bread, our family, our lives that are now impossible; and I rise them over my head. They tremble beyond measure, but it's the best I can do to give him my last goodbye.

  
  


“You have to know...” I say when I feel the hour is coming to an end “I did... love you back” And I start sobbing once more, lowering my hand to touch his face once again, and maybe for the very last time “I loved you... way before I knew I did” I continue “way before I knew how to” He looks so unlike him, with all those marks on his face, and yet, he looks as peaceful as if he were just sleeping. I wish he were, oh god how I wish he were “I'm sorry I never told you, but you were everything I could ever need... and want” my fingers sink into his hair softly, keeping memory of every curl on his head “and I will miss you... always”

  
  


The tears keep flowing out of my eyes like they're endless, but I feel somehow calm for a second. 

  
  


That's until I feel a knock on the door.

  
  


That's when I panic again.

  
  


No. No.

  
  


I won't leave you.

  
  


The door opens.

  
  


I won't leave you alone again

  
  


“Katniss” Fucking Gale. Not you. Please not you. “It's time...”

  
  


“No” I whisper “I won't leave” I'm losing it, I know. I don't care.

  
  


“Katniss, please come with me, I'm trying to--” But then he touches me, and I jump and yank his arm away, going back to Peeta. I can't leave him alone. He's so lonely. “Don't make this harder, Catnip, please let me--”

  
  


“No!” I yell “I can't leave him alone, don't you see?” He stares back a me and there's such pity in his eyes and can barely recognize him. That's when he turns back and heads to the door, where he shakes his head just a little bit in sign of approval.

  
  


I scream when three men enter the room and take me by the waist, trying fruitlessly to take me away from the body. The next step is the needle, I know, so I wait for it to enter my arm before I reach out to grab Peeta's hand as I drift off into forced sleep.  “ _ They will pay for this” _ I think. My hand on his feels almost alive when the sedative takes over me. In this high state I can pretend he squeezes it back, if only for just a second, before the darkness overcomes me. 

  
  


“ If it's the last thing I do, I swear on everything I am, on everything you were, Peeta, I'll make them  _ burn _ ” .

  
  


And then I fall asleep, but I don't ever wake up.

  
  


Not really.

  
  
  


 

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I just really wanted to write Katniss’s reaction to Peeta’s death, i’m not sure what i was thinking but this fic’s been sitting in my computer ever since MJP1 came out, you may guess why i never brought myself to post it. I thought maybe this was the chance. I don’t now, don’t hate me :(


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